


Iraada

by Silberias



Category: Jodhaa-Akbar (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Made up children's game, Sharing a Bed, Wedding Night, a longer conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: The newlyweds have a longer conversation on their wedding night and come away from it with a better understanding of one another.





	1. The Husband

**Author's Note:**

> Jalal wants to win her, this wife that was required for Amer to submit to imperial rule. She is beautiful and spirited and altogether unexpected.
> 
> Title means "Intent," in Hindi from what I could find.

He had not learned letters but he had learned people. It was one of his most prized skills, and right now Jalal could read his new wife, could read her thoughts and see her terrorized despair. If he touched her tonight, made their marriage true, she would find a way to kill herself. Maybe not during the night, maybe not within even a year, but she would die by her own will. Women died young all the time, from illness or childbirth or grief, and none would look askance on him if in a year he was a widower. But Allah could see him, would judge him for acting against his subject--against his own wife--in such a manner. It was Allah who had given him this bride, it would be a great sin to throw her away for the petty concerns of this world.

Peace was important and he greatly preferred peace to war. He would not start a war in his own marriage--and he said as much to her, inviting her to dissolve the marriage as was her right. She refused him, gently and kindly but spoken in the tones of someone condemned to die.

Jalal sat there on the bed, reading her in her silence, and trying to decide what to do. If he left the tent now it would shame her once she arrived in Agra--he loved Maham Anga, but he knew she had strict understandings of marriage and duty. Perhaps just as strict as his wife's, he thought with an internal smile. His wife would have to arrive in Agra with no cloud on the legitimacy of her marriage, he owed as much to her.

Chughtai Khan had had a game they played in the evenings around the fire when Jalal had been a green youth. The old warrior had called it 'diplomacy' and it was simple enough a game. Perhaps he would play a few rounds tonight with his empress, Rajkumari Jodhaa, frightened as she was.

"I will not touch you, but I must remain here for some time. I will not tolerate anyone questioning your honor or status as my wife. In the meantime, perhaps a game?"

She didn't meet his gaze but perhaps he hadn't expected her to, not truly. Undeterred Jalal settled himself on the bed, making sure to keep about a foot between them. He held up one hand with the palm down, waiting patiently for her to look up at him. She seemed a bright lady, self-assured, curious, and playful.

One minute passed, and then another. A few more. He willed his hand to stay still in the air, unwavering, focusing his eyes on his hand rather than staring at her. Allah gave him strength to wait for she kept him waiting for a long while.

"What game could this possibly be," she finally asked, not turning her head or even her eyes to look at him, "where no one touches and no one moves?"

"The man who taught it to me called it 'Diplomacy,' to entertain me when my eyes were half-crossed from my lessons. One person is the attacker, the other the defender. The attacker holds their hand out thus," he wavered his hand in the air, "and the defender holds their hands above and below. Each stays still until one tries to capture the other."

"You said--" her affront broke her gaze from the nameless distance to meet his own for the first time since they'd met in private.

"When I said I would not touch you, I meant as a man does a wife. This is a game, just a game," he replied softly, now keeping his hand just as still as it had been for many minutes. Jodhaa's hands retreated from her knees to her belly, but she kept her eyes on him. He had a feeling telling her he did not bite would not endear her to him at the moment.

It was not a hardship to wait for her to come to the conclusion he was being truthful with her--and he smiled softly when she finally shifted to sit before him and hesitantly put her hands out, one below and one above his own.

"Are there any other rules?" her voice was hardly audible and Jalal realized he'd been holding his breath to hear her speak.

"The attacker must not get caught up by the defender, when they attack and try to capture one of the defender's hands, and the defender must remember to coordinate in order to capture the attacker. Chughtai Khan was always calling me a fiesty little Rajput because of how skillfully I trapped his attacks, when we played."

"Rajput?" Her eyes were wide now, shocked and maybe offended.

"I was born here, in Amarkot, he and some of the other men never fail to remind me. A Hindu family chose to shelter my parents and it was there my mother bore me. It was a time of exile, for them, and they found safety in Rajputana."

He had a half-moment of thought of trying to trap one of her hands and it must have shown on his face because Jodhaa sucked in a breath and clapped both of her hands around his. Her fingers were cold, from the night air, her jewels, her fear--they were cold--but her touch left a blush creeping up his neck, he could feel how hot it was.

"You win," he announced with a smile, staying still until she released him, "and so you now must attack."

He rolled his shoulders to loosen the one that had gone stiff and held his hands out in expectation. Cautiously his wife put one of her hands between his. The jewels that covered her slender fingers sparkled in the lamp light and Jalal lost himself in their beauty for a moment too long--a moment where Jodhaa seized on his distraction and slapped one of his hands away and pinned the other to the bed between them.

It shocked a laugh out of him--it was a simple game but it was always great fun--and she smiled almost in spite of herself.

"A moment's distraction can change the outcome of a duel," she said as she released his hand.

"And a slight distraction can bring defeat," he replied, continuing,"you win again, Mallika--you attack again."

"It seems unbalanced, the defender has more resources," she murmured as they continued to play, some matches lasting several minutes as they tested one another's resolve, her jewel-bedecked hands tinkling merrily whenever she won.

"Except for a seige the defender has the advantage of knowledge of the territory, they have allies close to hand, they may strike out on a campaign of attack if they defeat their opponent. The attacker only has those soldiers and supplies he has brought with him and must rely on Allah's blessing to carry the day every time he engages in battle," Jalal started to explain, only catching himself when her eyes caught his. A woman would have no real interest in war, he chided himself and tried to think of a more suitable topic.

"Shahenshah," she called, bringing his attention back to her face, "I do not like secrets, or deceit. I--I will not bring them with me to our marriage."

"What secrets can a new bride possibly have?" he ought not have been amused in his tone for she withdrew her hands from their game and looked down, away from him.

"May I fetch something from my trunk?" he nodded, sweeping a hand out towards where her belongings were stacked, and watching as she gracefully and unerringly found whatever she was looking for.

"My brother...my foster brother...taught me how to fight with a sword," she said as she returned with a paper and something clenched in her fist, "I wasn't supposed to learn but my father never put a stop to it. I would--I would like to keep practicing, but I know it is not appropriate for the wife of the Emperor. So please, instead, do not limit yourself when you speak of strategy and battles."

Jalal could find no words, none at the ready at least, and only bent his head in acknowledgment of her statement. He would have to find a way to spar with her--after Malwa, it would have to be after Malwa, but he would find a way.

"My mother was convinced that--is convinced--that I would be dishonored on my wedding night. She gave me this," she opened her fist, finally, to reveal a tiny golden vial, "and said death was better than dishonor. It is poison, the fastest and least painful she could find." Jodhaa's voice shook a little as she spoke, evidencing her horror at the idea. She wouldn't meet his eyes as she reached out and grasped his hand and pressed the vial to his palm. Only when his fingers curled around it did she raise her eyes to his once more, tears welling high and falling like diamonds down her cheeks.

"I prayed to Lord Krishna about what to do--he demands honor and integrity, and he delights in marriage," her voice was thick with tears, and he found himself aching to sweep them away.

"Jodhaa..."

"And this," his wife continued, tear drops still falling, "is a letter in my own hand, to my foster brother asking him to come to my rescue, that it was not too late." The paper was folded so no words could be seen, and she did not ask him to read it to verify what she said was true. Without any further words she set it before him and then retreated once more.

Jalal could only stare at the letter and the vial of poison. Badi Ami and Khan Baba would both call a woman trained in the sword, bearing poison and a letter to engineer an escape, an assassin. Instead though Jodhaa was submitting herself to him on their wedding night, putting herself at his mercy completely by giving him these things.

He took several slow, deep breaths and implored Allah to help him. The woman before him was a stranger, an interesting stranger to be sure, but she was also _his_. And she was entrusting him with her whole person, only hours into their marriage. So he did the only thing he could:

Very slowly, so she would see him and be able to move away, he reached out and laid the palm of his free hand on the top of her head. She was trembling, so finely that her jewels did not even clink together, and her tears continued to fall. He could imagine it was frightening, to think one's honor could be compromised by someone finding out any of the information she'd told him.

"Do you know why my game is called 'diplomacy' and not 'war,' when it is based on battles?"

She shook her head the smallest amount.

"Because of moments like this, when there is opportunity for either to strike, when there is _reason_ to strike, but choosing not to. Choosing to stay still, to create or maintain peace. When Chughtai Khan would play against his son they would sometimes sit for an hour or more in a single game. They would talk and joke, sometimes sing together. Once they ended a game where the attacker laid his hand on the defender's and they parted from the game on peaceful terms."

He let that sink in for a few moments before removing his hand from her head and sitting back on his heels once more.

"You have laid three things at my feet, and I propose we share them. Tomorrow I ride to Malwa on urgent business, but when I return I expect you to spar with me. It will be private, but if my wife knows the sword I deserve to know the extent of her skills. Make no mistake, it is surprising but not something I would wish you to lose." Her throat jumped with emotion as she sucked in a stunned breath.

"This," he closed his hand around the vial, "I will keep."

His wife's breaths came haltingly, silent gasps as he astounded her, it seemed. She said nothing, only watched him.

"And this," he swept his hand towards the letter, "you will keep. If it turns out that you've been fed to the lions, you deserve the chance to call for a champion."

Jodhaa's tears had stopped, now, and he considered it well done and gave her a short smile. _He_ wanted to be her champion, it was his duty to her, but he sensed that with Jodhaa he would have to earn the distinction. And Jalal certainly intended to earn it.


	2. The Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jodhaa does not want this marriage and tries every reasonable thing she can to get out of it. Her new husband has some unexpected, but hopeful, surprises for her.

Jodhaa had expected the Emperor to kill her, had almost _wanted_ him to kill her. She didn't want to be married to him, she knew it was her duty as her father's daughter but she didn't want to. She would have preferred being forced to marry Sujamal bhai-sa, the man raised with her as her brother, than marry this Mughal.

But the Emperor never gave in to her private wishes, instead giving her everything else it seemed she wanted.

First promising she would retain her culture and her religion, then promising a temple would be built for her to continue worshipping, and that he would never ask her to convert.

Then he stayed his hand and did not bed her--saying instead he would wait for her to decide to come to him. That part seemed to cost him, she could tell from his body language, and he had been upset at her rebuff of his advances.

Their games had relaxed her a little but she still did not wish to be his wife--not in this lifetime, at least--and had decided to bare her secrets to him. He seemed a kind man but she knew a man could pretend kindness if it got him what he wanted. How would he react to finding out his wife was accomplished with a sword, had come to this tent with poison and a letter pleading for help escaping? Besides she knew she could not go to Agra, where there would be spies at every turn, with the letter and the poison.

Better her husband be the one to dispense justice on her, rather than whatever punishment she would get from his court advisors. Instead, though, he had stared intensely at what she gave him and then chosen to forgive her and accept what she told him. The Emperor of Hindustan looked at his wife, who would appear to anyone else as a Rajput assassin sent to murder him, and chosen his marriage over his own safety.

Just as she had.

"I must sleep here, in this tent, but I will leave at dawn," he was saying now, having put the poison in a locked box in his own trunk and watching her put her letter away in her own. He'd called for a plate of food for them from one of the guards outside, anticipating that neither of them was ready for sleep just yet and that their guests more than they themselves had partaken of their wedding feast.

"You ride for Malwa, while I will go to Agra," she replied, hesitantly getting back onto the bed.

"And I must ask if you would allow me to give you one more protection from the court gossips before we part," he said as he sat down across from her once more. Jodhaa played with a strand of pearls across the back of her hand, admiring their soft and luminescent glow in the lamp light. He had taken her confession--her antagonism--in stride. And he had promised he would not force her. They would have to learn to trust one another, and she knew she would have to trust him first because he was the one who had all the power over her.

He was the _only_ person who had power over her, though. There were none who were his, and therefore her, superior.

"What do you propose?"

"A maiden bleeds on her wedding night, proving she has entered her marriage honorably," he said slowly, not looking at her as he spoke, and Jodhaa felt ice sluice through her body. He had lied--he had _lied_ \-- _he had **lied** \--_

"And we are one body, now," he continued, "so your blood is my blood. Even a scrape of blood, a few drops, would silence those who might question your place as the rightful Empress of Hindustan. During my morning sparring I badly scuffed my forearm and elbow and at the time I cursed that I would appear so brutish to my wife, a frightened maiden. But now," he looked over at her now, his green eyes piercing even through her red veil, "I know Allah has laid out my path on purpose, to entirely protect your honor should you wish me to."

"You would have us lie to the world?"

"We deserve enough peace to figure one another out, and we may not get that peace if every gossip has a different lie created of their own dark fantasies. If I must hear untruths about my wife I prefer they be ones she has consented to have told of her."

Jodhaa blushed, glad it would not show through her veil.

"Then...then..." she tried to come up with the right words but a servant calling from outside that their meal had arrived distracted her. The Emperor granted them entrance, sitting quietly as the platter was laid down before them. The food comprised mostly things she recognized, only a few Persian dishes. Jodhaa was suddenly glad he'd called for a meal, realizing she was half starved. Her husband thanked the servant and dismissed them, waiting until they'd left the tent before gesturing for Jodhaa to continue speaking.

"If it does you no injury then...then your plan is amenable to me. It is...generous," she said.

The Emperor still had the power to expose their lie but at least he understood the kinds of pressures she herself would be under without it. Even if he only understood she _had_ to go to Agra as a true wife that was enough for now. They could figure out the rest but this was the first cornerstone of a fortress that love could live in.

"Then you should change for the night, my lady, and I will take care of the rest while you are away. Then we can share this before we sleep," he declared, making a short gesture to the food as he stopped speaking. Jodhaa nodded and retreated behind a screen that was left for some privacy, taking off her jewels and setting them down carefully, along with her veil on an impulsive whim. The Emperor had not yet expressed dismay at her boldness--and what was a veil in the face of a wife who rebuffed his advances?

She peeked around the screen and watched him, watched him draw a dagger from his belt and shrug off his surcoat and then his tunic. The wound he spoke of was minor, for a man, and would be overlooked because it predated the wedding. She gasped a little when he pressed the blade against the broken skin, his blood red as rubies on the shining steel. Then he dripped the blood on the bed where she had sat waiting for him, his eyes intent on his work. This was the methodical man who struck so much fear in all of Rajputana, this was his attention down to the finest detail.

Jodhaa was sure that he was the kind of man who might take over half the world if the notion struck him.

When he started to undress further she spun around, face burning, and busied herself with fussing at the wedding jewelry she'd just taken off. The ring he'd given her though, she kept it on. He had been kind to her so far, and fair. She had always expected her husband to treat her with honor and kindness, but fairness was unexpected. There were different lots in life for wives and husbands, at least in the life she had expected until this night.

"Will you show me how some of these are eaten? I may be overthinking them, but I would appreciate the help," he called softly. He was dressed for sleep and looking down at the food when she came around the screen. He glanced once up at her and then his eyes stayed trapped on her as she walked forward. He muttered something in Persian, putting a hand up to his heart as he did so, but quickly regained his composure as she took a seat across from him.

As they ate he watched her, his green eyes dancing as a blush rose up her throat. She watched him under her eyelashes, seeing how stern he could make his face look if he pressed a frown to his lips but also how obvious his wonder could be. How his happiness could light his features.

"How long will you be in Malwa?"

"I hope to leave its care in the hands of my foster brother, Adham Khan," he said, "he is the son of one of my advisors, Maham Anga, who was my nurse when I was a child. If all goes well, a few weeks at most and then Allah will return me to you and the court."

Jodhaa looked down now, touching the ring on her finger for a moment as she tried to articulate what she wanted to say. He had not exploded in anger at all tonight but men had irregular places where they were tender. The question could be taken badly but it was worth trying.

"A man likes to have his wife understand who he holds dear, my lord, and I should like to know whose approval I should try to win first. Usually it is best to appeal to his mother, or his sister--my mother won over the cooks first, for my father holds his suppers in highest esteem."

Her husband chuckled softly at the image before sobering a little.

"Maham Anga is dear to me, and my mother when she is at court. Ataga Khan, and Chughtai Khan, but you will not need to speak to them often. My sister, whenever Sharifuddin will spare her to me. Ni'mat is the Head Eunuch, and will give as good as he gets when you tease him."

"What is Maham Anga like?"

The Emperor looked away, seeing some image of the woman in his mind, and his words were careful as he answered her.

"She is strict, she was the chief of my nurses and fed me at her own breast when I was a babe. Badi Ami--Maham Anga--sacrificed much to protect me and she continues to look after my interests. We meet every few days when I am at court, and she has the right to attend court in her own right as my advisor. I love her dearly." _More than the mother who bore him_ , Jodhaa observed to herself. It was very likely that this Maham Anga would work hard to make Jodhaa's life hard if she was the beloved Elder Mother. It was the way of the mother-in-law to the new wife.

"And Mallika Makani? And your sister?"

"I was parted from my mother for many years, it is still painful for both of us to discuss and she is often away on tours of the empire for my benefit. Banu is a ray of moonlight, soft and fleeting. Sharifuddin does not approve of our match, that much is clear by his preventing the Emperor's sister from attending our wedding, but I do not know my sister's true heart. Let that be my first command to you as your husband: write to Bakshi Banu Begum and, if you can, learn her feelings about us."

"I will do so, Shahenshah," Jodhaa replied, inclining her head for a moment. He was more concerned that his sister like her than either of his mothers. Perhaps a blind spot in his vision, especially concerning Maham Anga. She would be foolish to think that winning his sister's approval would ease her life in Agra more than establishing herself while being under the--likely disapproving--eyes of Maham Anga.

"It would make me very glad, thank you," the Emperor said, getting up to move their tray to one of the tables instead. Jodhaa leaned back on the bed and rolled to her side, watching him as he did the same. He made her feel safe tonight, like he valued her beyond the alliance their marriage signified. She felt...seen. It was an awkward feeling but not one she necessarily disliked.

They fell asleep not long after, the events of the day having been as demanding as they were tiring. Jodhaa did not sleep very well, waking several times and curling up after tossing and turning for a few minutes, but when she did open her eyes the next morning she was blanketed under the heavy brocade surcoat the Emperor had worn the night before. Someone was murmuring softly in the tent and she propped herself up enough to see her husband engaged in his morning prayers. A servant waited near the entrance with a small platter of breakfast, their head bowed in silence as they waited to be called forward.

Her husband was only occupied another few minutes before he concluded and stood up.

"You are awake," he noticed her right away, a broad smile lighting his face, "I half-hoped you would before I had to go, but you looked so peaceful I let you rest. You seemed chilled..."

"Thank you for your kindness," she said in a rush and earned another smile for her words. Her mother had, even when Jodhaa was meant for Ratan Singh, counseled her to latch onto every thoughtful thing her husband did for her and to make sure it was noticed and appreciated. In addition to this, men let women speak so rarely in Rajputana, even in private, and Jodhaa had to make every word count. Men also liked to think they were kind, they needed their hearts petted and praised or else their hearts could turn cold and dark.

"I woke and I found I did not wish to part from you, some magic has slowed my steps all morning," he said now, sitting at her side. For a moment she thought he might reach for her hand as he had the night before but he did not.

"You must attend your duties, my lord, but I will be in Agra waiting for you. Conclude your business in Malwa and return to your court. You have an engagement with a foreign duelist, after all," she said softly, teasing him as far as she dared.

"I do indeed, my lady. But first we will eat together once more, just as a man and his wife I hope."

She had wondered how this life with him would play out--one of her ladies had even suggested the idea that he would convert to Hinduism, since his sons would be born of a Hindu mother. Now Jodhaa hoped that at the very least their marriage was unremarkable. Another emperor with another empress who mothered his sons, sons who took up his banner when he fell to age or illness. She did not hope for fame, only happiness and respect. She also nursed a secret hope that someday too there would be love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! Please let me know what you thought of it!

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I am super new to a very tiny fandom but I hope that you have enjoyed this story! Please let me know if you liked it!


End file.
